


The After Party

by rikyl



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M, Gen, finale AU, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:37:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikyl/pseuds/rikyl
Summary: At Leslie's victory party, various wackiness and complications! An alternate version of the season 4 finale, written while waiting for the actual finale.Originally posted to LJ.





	

At approximately 9:50 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time—or 10:50 for the thousands of Pawneeans still refusing to acknowledge DST—newly minted City Councilwoman Leslie Barbara Knope was moonwalking across the kitchen of her campaign headquarters, singing into a wire whisk.

 

“I’m walking on suuuuun-shiiiiiiine. WHOA-oh. Walking on SUN-shiiiiine…”

 

“Is that what all the public officials are singing these days?”

 

She recognized the voice immediately and spun around, dropping the whisk to envelope its owner in a hug. “Mark Brandanawisz, in the flesh? You made it!”

 

“You made it, from what I hear. To no one’s surprise at all, of course. Congratulations.” Leslie beamed proudly and got out a new whisk. “Are you seriously cooking eggs at your own victory party?”

 

“A member of my campaign team wants eggs, and he shall have eggs! I decree it, as my first official act as city councilwoman.”

 

“Good god, woman. Please don’t taint those eggs with your big government ideas,” Ron said gruffly, though Leslie thought he looked pleased. Ron nodded at Mark, then poured something from a flask into several tumblers, handing each of them one. “Drink this. It will help restore your dignity.”

 

“I don’t know, Ron,” Leslie demurred, as she was already accepting the alcohol. “I’ve already had, like, three Jell-o shots.”

 

Ron frowned at her. “Then you’ll understand why I had to intervene.”

 

As they sipped at their whiskey and caught up, Chris Traeger burst into the room, slapping Ron on the back.

 

“Ron Swanson!” He pointed two finger guns at the larger man, grinning from ear to ear. “It looks like we’re going to get to be work buddies after all!”

 

Ron's expression remained unchanged. “Bully for me.”

 

“So you accept the job?”

 

“Yes. As long as we don’t have to celebrate.”

 

“Excellent! Glad to have you on board. Let my assistant know what your favorite energy drink is, and we’ll have it stocked for you on Monday.”

 

“Job? What job?” Leslie hopped up and down, filled with nervous energy, looking between them.

 

Chris gleefully explained how Ron had become his top pick for assistant city manager, with both the men’s positions contingent on her being elected.

 

As she toasted Ron all over again, Leslie realized what this meant. The parks director position was available. She was going to get to be parks director! City councilwoman and parks director. It was all of her dreams being given to her in one fantastic night. Of course, she’d have a lot of new responsibilities to take on. But she could handle it. She could handle anything! What can’t that city councilwoman do?

 

She should submit her application immediately—tonight! After all, she’d had the forms ready, just in case, for years. Maybe she’d get extra points for submitting early! Not that anyone else was remotely as qualified as she was.

 

“April can be my deputy!” she blurted, then ran out of the room to borrow Ben’s computer.

 

\--

 

Ron watched Leslie inexplicably run out of the room, then shrugged. He supposed she suddenly had been overcome with an urge to make a ridiculous plan to spend the taxpayers’ hard-earned money, but instead of disgust, all he felt was a strange surge of warmth.

 

It must be the whiskey—this was a particularly strong brand.

 

“Where is April tonight?” Mark asked him. “I think I’ve seen almost everyone but her.”

 

Ron knew she had spent most of the day on the campus of the community college, directing students to polling places. Then she must have come back here after the polls closed—although he couldn’t remember seeing her here.

 

He didn’t know where she was. It was a disconcerting feeling for someone who prided himself on his tracking skills.

 

“Who?” was all he said to Mark.

 

\--

 

An hour after the announcement of Leslie's win, campaign headquarters was still several decibels above what Ben was usually comfortable with. Floating through the sea of high fives and grins and hugs, he searched for Leslie, who had gotten swept away in the current of supporters some time ago.

 

Ron appeared in front of him, blocking his view of most of the room.

 

“Have you seen April?” Ron asked with no preamble.

 

“No, not recently,” Ben answered. “It is pretty crowded, though.”

 

He was about to ask if Ron had seen Leslie, but Ron was already gone.

 

Out of nowhere, a set of arms abruptly enveloped him. It was far from the first time this evening—he should be getting used  
to it by now.

 

"Chris, hey, man." Ben patted the other man on the back while willing him to let go. "Okay ... okay then."

 

"Ben! I have never been happier in my entire life than I am for you right now."

 

"Thanks." Ben squirmed free and managed to achieve a comfortable distance, smiling all the while because he felt like he could probably say the same for himself, even though it was something like the third time they'd had this exchange since Leslie’s victory speech.

 

"We should talk," Chris shouted over the din.

 

"Yes, we should catch up. We should, you know, get coffee sometime." Ben did feel bad that he and Chris had sort of lost touch since they didn't work together anymore, but at the moment he was hoping he could detach from his one-time work partner to continue his search for Leslie, who he'd barely had a few scattered minutes with, surrounded by supporters. He wanted to get her alone, that's what he really wanted.

 

"Yes. But no. I meant about your employment."

 

"My employment?" Ben asked distractedly. He supposed he would have to start thinking about his next step soon, but tonight—tonight he really had other goals. Ones that involved finding his girlfriend, and getting her alone …

 

Chris leaned into Ben's comfort zone again so that his mouth was closer to Ben's ear. "I've selected Ron as the new assistant city manager, so the city's going to be in need of a new parks director."

 

"Parks director. Oh, well, Leslie's the obvious choice ... she's always wanted that job. Of course, she's going to have a lot on her plate ... but she's good at juggling." And at least she doesn't need much sleep, Ben thought.

 

"That's true. But I was thinking of you."

 

Ben blinked. "I can't work for the city, Chris. You might remember, I resigned. In disgrace? You were there ..." He felt so buoyant tonight, the words didn't feel the slightest bit bitter coming out. It really had been worth it.

 

"You've been on unpaid leave for half a year"—unpaid leave, that was putting a positive spin on it, Ben thought wryly—"and it would be a demotion from your previous position. I think the council would consider that enough of a penalty, especially considering the Pawnee public has seemed to come around to accepting your relationship."

 

God, that sounded nice. The one negative of the campaign ending was that he wouldn’t be working with Leslie anymore. But that was the thing. "I can't work in parks with Leslie. There are rules concerning that sort of thing, and in my experience those rules seem to be taken pretty seriously."

 

"I think the city might be able to make an exception for such a unique situation." Ben's eyebrows shot up. Now the city could make an exception? "As city council member, she’d be your boss just as much as you’d be her boss. It’s a built-in system of checks and balances. And as an elected representative, she’d be directly accountable to voters, so the two of you would have ample reason to avoid impropriety."

 

Did any of that even make sense? It was a little too loud in here, and Ben was still a little too giddy and distracted, to follow all of what Chris was saying. "Wow. Okay. Well, you're right, we should talk. I'm not sure yet what I'll be doing ..."

 

"Yes, yes, I realize you have other things on your mind right now. I wouldn't bring it up tonight except that summer is parks' busiest season, and we'll want to fill it quickly, and I'd need some extra time to smooth things over, given the unusual circumstances. And something else to consider ... I think it would help things tremendously, in persuading the city to allow you two to work together again, if your relationship was a matter of public record ..."

 

Ben raised an eyebrow, thinking of the trial transcript, parts of which were framed and mounted above Leslie’s bed. "I'm fairly certain the city already has our feelings on record."

 

Chris smiled at him, leaning in extra close again. "An official public record." Before Ben could process that, or the weird way that Chris was winking at him, Leslie came barreling toward him and jumped into his arms, her feet actually leaving the ground. Ben swung her around and set her down.

 

It was several moments before Ben remembered there were other people in the room, much less that he’d been in the middle of a conversation with Chris. When he glanced up, Chris smiled at them wistfully.

 

"It's amazing how things work out sometimes, isn't it?" Chris observed. Then he grinned at someone across the room and started moving in that direction. Ben briefly followed his gaze, surprised to see him joining Jennifer Barkley. What was she doing here?

 

Relieved, Ben bent down to kiss Leslie. She tasted like strong liquor, pastries, and success.

 

"I feel like I haven't had a chance to congratulate you personally, Councilwoman Knope,” he murmured into her ear.

 

She giggled lasciviously into his neck, pressing her body into his. “There are all these people around.”

 

“We should go somewhere. Just for a little bit, and then we’ll come back. Your place?"

 

Leslie drew back slightly, getting that weird shifty-eyed look she got sometimes when she was planning something, or hiding something. But the campaign was over, and he couldn’t think what she could possibly—

 

"My place? What place, what are you talking about? Oh, right, my place ... you mean the campaign bus, right? Because it's just parked outside ... "

 

"I'm pretty sure Mouse Rat has taken over the campaign bus for the evening." There were also people overflowing into Ben's bedroom, but he hadn't mustered up the annoyance to kick them out yet tonight. "How about your house?" Leslie’s house would be a mess, as usual, but all he really needed was one sliver of wall in the front hallway to press her up against.

 

Her eyes widened but then she smiled brightly at him again, tugging at his shirt and rocking her hips into his. "You know what, we don't need to leave. This is my party. How about a closet? We've never done it in a closet ... that could be romantic. Or the laundry room!"

 

She started to tug at his arm, but Ben planted his feet, confused. "Leslie, why wouldn't we just go to your house?" He was starting to lose track of the last time he had been there ... it had been a while. But they were usually working on campaign stuff at his place, or hanging out with April and Andy, and his bed was never covered in stuff, and his kitchen had actual food in it, so it just made sense most nights for her to stay with him. Leslie had even started keeping pantsuits in his closet for that purpose.

 

"Who needs a house? A house is just a place to store stuff. And sleep, but I just sleep here most nights ... or occasionally at Ann's, or City Hall, or ..." She cocked her head toward the front of the house, or presumably toward the bus that was parked out front.

 

Suddenly, that comment that Leslie had made about living on the campaign bus took on a whole new meaning. And he had sudden suspicions about the "anonymous donor" who had mysteriously donated the huge amount of money needed to fund that sort of thing.

 

"Leslie ... did you sell your house to fund the campaign?"

 

\--

 

“There you are.” Jennifer looked up from her phone at Chris, glancing around the room distastefully. “I’m bored. These people are boring. What is this place, a frat house? All they have to drink are Jell-o shots.”

 

Chris laughed at her obvious joke. “You are hilarious and charming. This is campaign headquarters, and the Ludgate-Dwyer house, and Ben Wyatt lives here as well.”

 

“Are you serious? I got beaten by a guy who lives in a frat house?” She shook her head in disbelief, while Chris wondered what she thought Ben’s living situation had to do with his excellent political instincts. “I have to get out of this place. You”—she handed him a card with an address on it—“meet me at my hotel room in 20 minutes.”

 

Chris hesitated, glancing between the card and the brilliant, statuesque woman who was already walking away from him.

 

The ethical issue of sleeping with Jennifer had certainly passed now that the election was over and Leslie had won, but leaving his friend’s victory party to fornicate with her opponent’s campaign manager (again) still felt a little wrong. But also extremely hot.

 

When she was gone, Chris looked around the room. It was filled with people—loud, celebrating slightly drunk people. He didn’t share quite the distaste for it that Jennifer did—in fact, he felt quite the opposite. He had genuine affection for this place and these people. Ben and Leslie, who gambled and seemingly got everything. Andy, who was nice and had a band. Well-meaning Jerry, who had come so close to being his father-in-law. Donna, so self-assured and appreciative of the benefits of a good cleanse. April, who had a surprising amount of good advice for him lately.

 

But aside from April—who, strangely, he hadn’t even seen tonight—he wondered if any of them would even notice if he left.

 

He looked down at the card in his hand. Looked around again. And back at the card, running his thumb thoughtfully across the print.

 

What the heck? Jennifer really had been that good at it.

 

\--

 

“Beeeeeen,” Leslie whined. “There are much better things we could be doing in this closet.”

She reached out to him in the dark, but he brushed her fingers away.

“No. We need to have a conversation, and this is the only private place we can talk at the moment—now that you don’t have a house.”

“Ben! I don’t understand! Why is this such a big deal? It was my house. You didn’t even like it much. Why can’t we just make out?”

“Leslie. We moved in together. Apparently. And you didn’t even tell me!”

 

\--

 

After enduring a full ten minutes of awkward small talk with her one-time almost-fiancé—who knew Mark was going to show up? Mark never showed up at anything—Ann slipped out the front door for some fresh air. She felt bad about abandoning Leslie’s victory party, but she couldn’t even find Leslie.

As she stood on the front step and took a deep breath, the door flew open behind her, and out came Chris.

“Ann Perkins! What a delight to run into you here.”

“Hi, Chris.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, willing him to go away.

“I just wanted you to know, there are no hard feelings at all. In fact, I’ve already met someone new! I’m on my way to join her at her hotel right now, in fact, and I could not be more excited.”

Ann stared at him in horror. “Great. Have fun?”

“Why, thank you! I’m absolutely certain I will.” Chris said, then started jogging down the walk.

Seriously, how had Leslie’s victory party become a funhouse of all her ex-boyfriends? Everywhere she turned, another distorted mirror, another reflection of a life she’d chosen not to have.

Speaking of … there was music coming from the campaign bus that was still parked out front. Mouse Rat was apparently having a jam session inside. Ann could hear Andy’s voice belting out the lyrics of a familiar song, one he’d once written for her.

I know you’ve been changing. And I’ve been changing too …

The sound of it made her feel wistful … not for Andy—she was way over that—but for a time in her life when she felt like she was moving forward.

The song ended, and Andy’s voice floated out to her. “That was awesome, guys! Can you imagine if we were on a tour, and this was our tour bus? We should totally have a tour bus. And go places, and jam like this all the time.”

See--even Andy, who was basically a big happy lump of complacency, had ambitions.

The front door swung open again, and Ron joined her.

“Hello, Abby. Have you seen April?”

“You cannot have forgotten my name again. I know you know it.” He was silent beside her, and Ann sighed. “No. I haven’t.”

Ron approached the bus, and Ann decided to walk around the house, not wanting Andy to find out she’d been out here listening.

Approaching the back, she heard a woman’s giggle and stopped short. “You are too funny,” the woman said in a high-pitched, slight drawl. “I don’t know why I’m even here. I feel so disloyal.” She giggled again.

“Who could blame you?” Oh god, that was Tom. “Losers’ parties are never as fun. Unless they’re thrown by yours truly. Hey, were you at our End of the World party last year?”

“That was the dopest party that ever tried to be dope, am I right?” And that was definitely Jean-Ralphio. “Although to be clear, we considered that the temporary ‘end of the world.’ As soon as we raise the money, Entertainment 720 will be back in biz like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Wow, that’s so weird,” the woman’s voice came again. “I never have to worry about money anymore. My husband, may he rest in peace, was loaded.”

Shocked, Ann realized she knew who that was—Jessica Newport, the former beauty queen and rich widow of Nick Newport. Ann didn’t know if Tom was trying to hit on her or pitch a business idea to her, but either way … it sounded like he had plans too.

Quietly, Ann backed away before they noticed her and went in search of her car keys. Leslie would understand. She’d had enough of this party.

What she really needed was a change. And more hair dye. Maybe she’d try purple this time.

\--

 

“That was literally the most amazing sex I have ever had in my entire life. Other than last night, of course.”

 

“It was adequate. Could be better,” Jennifer said, and Chris was filled with joy both that he had met her needs, and that she was optimistic for improvement. “How do you not sweat?”

 

“Endurance training,” he said, noticing that her own body was glistening pleasantly.

 

“I bet I could make you break a sweat. Really raise your heart rate.” She rested a hand over his heart, and it did flutter a bit, although not from exertion. “I do enjoy a challenge.”

 

“You could try. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

 

She frowned, laying back and removing her hand. “I’m flying back to DC tomorrow.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Chris’s heart sank. Of course he knew this was a very short-term arrangement, just casual sex to pass the time, but he’d enjoyed the past two evenings of nude acrobatics and witty repartee so much. It was the best he’d felt in months. With Jennifer gone, would he go right back to being depressed?

 

He placed a grin on his face, determined to wish her well, just the same. “Well, I hope you have a safe flight, as well as a long and fulfilling life.”

 

Jennifer shrugged nonchalantly, and it crossed his mind that she probably had a different man for every campaign. He used to be like that—when had things changed?

 

“You could come,” she said, catching Chris off-guard.

 

“Come with you?”

 

“Not with me,” she clarified. “To DC. What’s keeping you here?”

 

“I have a job here,” he said.

 

“I could get you a job in DC,” she said, like they grew on trees. “I know people.”

 

Chris couldn’t help but admire the precision of her enunciation, the way she really popped the consonants. Peo-ple.

 

And then Jennifer smiled at him, and just a touch of vulnerability peeked out from behind her poised, brazen façade. Chris felt this connection to her just then that was nothing like the ecstasy of their physical endeavors—he felt like he knew her, sensed that he and she might have more in common than he had previously realized.

 

“That is awfully tempting,” he acknowledged, feeling himself fall further under her spell.

 

“Whatever,” Jennifer shrugged, her armor sliding back into place. “I figured you don’t have much going on here. Poisonous water. Raccoons. Frat parties.”

 

Chris laughed—he really enjoyed her sense of humor. He enjoyed a lot of things about her. But it was crazy what she was suggesting. Wasn’t it?

 

Pawnee was his home now. Then again, if Pawnee had taught him anything—particularly on a night like this—it was to take risks, embrace the crazy.

 

He kissed her, and she kissed him back, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything.

 

\--

 

Ron found her sitting in the last row of some bleachers, overlooking a football field partially covered in folding chairs. He sat down a few seats away.

 

“How did you find me?” April asked tonelessly.

 

“I have excellent tracking skills.” She raised a knowing eyebrow. “And I called your mother.”

 

April let out a small laugh. “That must have been a fun conversation.”

 

“She was certainly surprised to hear from me. She thought you would have already shared that information with me. To be honest, I thought so as well.”

 

April sullenly batted away the tassel that had fallen over one eye. “Whatever. It’s just community college.”

 

“It’s a degree from an accredited educational institution.”

 

They sat in silence for a few long moments.

 

“Everybody was just going to make a fuss, and I hate that.”

 

Ron nodded. He certainly wasn’t a fan of people making a fuss.

 

“Tom would probably want to throw a party. Leslie would frame something. A lot of things probably.”

 

“Leslie is prone to framing things,” he agreed sympathetically.

 

She took her cap off and flung it forward, like a Frisbee. It tumbled listlessly down the bleachers.

 

“Everyone would ask me about my plans.”

 

“People should mind their own business. Your plans are your plans.”

 

“I don’t have any plans.”

 

Yet, Ron added silently. She would. But he didn’t say that. Instead, he took out his flask and a pair of paper cups, poured two whiskeys, and handed her one. They drank in companionable silence for several minutes.

 

“What now?” April finally asked, squishing her empty cup in her palm.

 

Ron looked significantly at the diploma in her lap, then at the young woman who had blossomed under his tutelage and who had now completed arguably the last rite of passage into adulthood.

 

“Whatever you want,” he said.


End file.
